Nuzzling Muzzles is the place where I write and exchange news about the large and powerful beasts we call horses.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Whoa!

When my horses get too rambunctious racing around the paddock while I'm trying to work, I can say "Whoa!" and they stop. Wouldn't it be great if we could say that to the people around us, or to just life in general, and make it all stop? When life gets going too fast for me, it morphs into one big blur like the picture above.

I have been going non-stop since Friday morning, all the while attempting to ponder the insanity. I have this misfortune of always over scheduling and then end up having to be in two or more different places at once. On Friday I had to be both at work running a test and out in the paddock holding each of my horses for the farrier. I specifically asked him to come as early as possible to avoid conflicts with my job. Normally, very few of my coworkers start contacting me with needs before 10:00 AM, however the day the farrier came at 8:45 AM, I already had an urgent assignment.

I sent my daughter out to halter and hold a horse for him. I forgot to tell her that the other horses need to be herded into the round pen, because otherwise they start goosing the farrier with their noses every time he bends over (which for a farrier is about 95% of the time). My daughter hasn't spent much time around my horses by choice, so she didn't have the skills to herd the horses. My poor farrier had to do it.

As soon as I finished with my task, I ran outside to relieve my daughter (and the farrier), but before I could get two words of apology out to him, my neighbor called out to me. She wanted to tell me the latest news on her grand kids. I had her, the farrier, and my daughter all talking to me at the same time. While all this was going on, my mind was still back at the office worrying about whether I had completed my task correctly.

Our Region III Arabian Championship Horse Show started last Sunday and finished this Saturday. I had promised my neighbor that I would go to the show to watch her grand kids ride. However, because I work full time, I could only attend last Sunday or this Saturday. I blew off last Sunday because I had way too much work to do at home. Come this Saturday I discovered that I had a hair appointment I had set up months in advance. I called my hair dresser, who normally does not work weekends, but is gracious enough to make an exception for me, and asked if she could get me out of there by 11:30 AM. She agreed, but come 11:30, she still wasn't done with my hair.

I cut it short -- her time, not my hair -- and figured I'd go into a walk-in place some weekend soon to have them finish the job. I raced up to the horse show, hoping I'd have time to stop at a store that had riding apparel at half-price (for one day only, of course) to see what I could find. There was no time. The traffic was horrendous. (So much for conserving gas. We have more out of state plates than ever on our roads this summer. They were probably all looking for a place to live where they wouldn't be stuck idling in traffic and wasting gas.) If I was to make it to the show in time to see the last class that one of her granddaughters was entered in, I had to skip the equine store sale.

My daughter and I watched the last afternoon classes of the show, and left for a dinner break. We had planned to return at 7:00 PM to see one of my favorite fillies perform in the halter championship. This is a filly who just stops my heart every time I see her. My daughter and I found a place to eat quickly, but then had to do a quick underwear run.

You know, ladies, how once every few years your underwear gets to the point where no one would want to raid it or run it up a flagpole? It's kind of beyond just being in tatters? Well, we were there, plus we were both sick of getting wedgies every time that we run on our treadmill. We wanted no-ride underpants, and Reno had just enough shopping centers and department stores to help us find them. Since we don't get up to Reno often, we have to cram all our errands there into one day a season.

Kohl's was right across the street from where we ate dinner, so I planned to go there quickly, buy the goods, and get us back to the Reno Livestock Events Center by 7:00 PM. It was a good plan until some &*%$#@! driver cut me off and forced me onto a street that went on for miles with a center divider and no left turn lane nor side street!

I ended up wasting all this gas and time driving around Reno trying to figure out how to get back to the store. I gave up and went to Dillard's instead where I did not find underwear, but did find a belt. However, the dimwits at the counter were too busy gossiping to pay attention to what they were doing, and they forgot to put my belt into the bag, which I did not realize until I was half-way out of the store. Thankfully, some alarms went off in my head that the bag was too light, and I dug through it before discovering that the $45 belt I just paid for is now 60 miles away and will cost another $60 in gas to retrieve.

I was angry that I didn't get my underwear, so I drove until I found Kohl's. They had more than enough to tie me over for another couple of years, but by the time we got out of there, it was 7:15 PM and I missed the halter class. My daughter and I headed for home, only to discover that one pair of underpants we bought was labelled incorrectly and several sizes smaller than the tag said. I threw my hands up in the air and realized that I can't keep doing this.

I have to limit myself to one activity per weekend, even if that activity will only take two hours. The reason being that if I feel rushed in the slightest, then bad things happen, I don't get my goals met, I waste a lot of time, money, energy, gas, etc. trying to juggle it all as fast as I can, not having any room for error, making mistakes, and then having to correct them later. I mean, if I felt I had an extra second to hold up each of my purchases to each other to compare sizes, that wouldn't have happened. If I had given my hair dresser the entire two hours she needed to complete my color and cut the right way, I wouldn't be thinking about going somewhere else for a second cut.

Sunday was the day the my mother reserves every summer to spend with the grand kids. This meant spending three hours on the road and an entire day sitting around the living area of her mountain cabin talking about nothing in particular. I was exhausted and really, really needed to rest and relax in bed at home, plus I had a lot of chores I do every weekend that were not going to get done at all because I wouldn't be home all weekend. I contemplated calling her and telling her that we couldn't visit her, but I knew it would break her heart. When you live alone and only see your family a couple of times a year, that becomes the only thing you look forward to. I bit the bullet and made the trip.

We got home late Sunday and when I looked at my calendar showing the week ahead, I wanted to cry. It's loaded with appointments. I'm starting to gain weight again, because I'm not getting my lunch break exercise due to so many people sucking up my lunch hour with their own needs or because of various appointments that cut into my lunch break. To top it all off, my mother wants to come visit us in our home on a weekday while I'm working. She wants to go out to lunch. The more I eat out, the fatter I get. The worst part about it is that because I haven't been home or have been too busy with work, my house hasn't been cleaned in two weeks. My daughter offered to help, but she has a job too, and my son is sick.

I have had a non-stop headache for three days thanks to the stress and the smoke in the sky. It's times like this when I wish I could yell, "Whoa!" and make it all stop just long enough to let me complete a thought or provide enough silence to help me remember to take my blood pressure medication. I'm suffering from over stimulation. There is constant activity and talking going on around me, whether it be in person, by phone, by email, or by instant messages. Every time that I have an important thought, such as knowing I need to take my medication or turn off the oven or pay a bill before it is overdue, someone or something interrupts me and the thought is gone. I'm constantly suffering the consequences of my own feeble memory, of over stimulation, and of over-extending myself.

So, to all of that I say, "Whoa!" and may my crazy life skid to a halt like a good working cow horse.

Thanks for all the advice. I'm feeling better now that I made time to ride a horse. We actually had a day where I could see the mountains thanks to a little thunderstorm that blew some of the smoke away.

O jeez! It's like that around here, except we'll have a long round of downtime, and then BOOM, everything gets slammed all at once and it's like a huge shock to the nervous system and is overwhelming.Where is that equal distribution of weekly activities, so it doesn't get so crazy?

I know what you mean about the undies. I wore an old, baggy pair by accident at my goat show this past weekend and I was uncomfortably aware of them riding way up into my you-know-where. And because I was ring steward I had nowhere that I could privately manage a good grab to tug it back down! And the show was a double back-to-back job that lasted 10 long hours! I wished I could have went out and bought a new pair to complete that show. gak!

Archives

Recent Posts

Link List

Awards

2011 NaNoWriMo Winner

A Word on Advice

In order to give advice, you first have to assume that you are more knowledgeable on the subject than the person you are advising. This can be insulting to the person receiving the advice.

I am a writer who loves to tell stories about animals. In order to hold the reader's attention, I often write stories that involve challenges or tension. Unfortunately, a lot of readers interpret this as an invitation to give advice on how to solve the problems portrayed in the stories.

My advice to you: Just enjoy, and appreciate being entertained.

-DISCLAIMER-

Please note that I am not a horse training professional, but just an average jane fumbling her way along the journey of raising and training horses. This is a blog in which I share what works and what doesn't for me and my horses. What works for you and your horses may be different. Working with horses can be a very rewarding, yet dangerous activity. The comments on this site are sometimes the opinions of others who work with horses as well. My readers and I will not assume any liability for your actions.

Attn: Pirates

No part of this blog may be copied and reproduced elsewhere. This includes adding links and feeds to it on other websites without express permission from Nuzzling Muzzles. All rights to the text and images are reserved by the author.

About NuzMuz

I am a part-time photographer, part-time writer, part-time property caretaker, full-time wife, full-time animal caretaker, part-time fabric artist, part-time amateur horse trainer, part-time amateur dog trainer, full-time time management failure -- not necessarily in that order. I have three Arabian horses: Bombay, Lostine, and Gabbrielle. I also have a Pembroke Corgi named Midgerator (Midge), a Chiweenie named Scrappy, and a tiny mystery Chi mix named Stewie.

The Cast

Bombay: 19 year old flea-bitten grey domestic Arabian gelding from the Khemosabi bloodline. First horse, acquired by us as a yearling.

Lostine: 29 year old chestnut Polish Arabian mare from the Enrilo bloodline. Acquired by us as a 13 year old broodmare.

Gabbrielle: 12 year old grey domestic Arabian mare from the Khemosabi bloodline. Acquired by us as a yearling.

Rock: 10 year old grade Quarter Horse from unknown bloodline. Acquired by us as a 6 year old trail horse.

Midge: 14 year old Welsh Cardigan Corgi dog suffering from diabetes, poor eyesight and poor hearing. Acquired by us as a puppy.

Scrappy: 17 to 18 year old black and gray Dachshund/Chihuahua mix with poor eyesight, poor hearing, and incontinence. Acquired by us as a 10 to 12 year old homeless pet.

Stewie: 4 year old tan and white Chihuahua/probably Min Pin mix. Found and adopted by us as a 6 month old stray.